Who am i?

Lyra listened to the man, nodding along as she found herself agreeing ( in the end, could it really be any worse than this? ). “I hope you’re right, though. I hope it gets better than this, even though I somehow doubt.” She sighed, taking a sip of her drink. “I guess hoping this resolves more quietly will be wishful thinking, huh?”

                      LOVED. The word alone was powerful enough to tighten Aggie’s chest — she’d thought that she’d been loved at some point ( Ivan was hard to read but child naiveté had lead her to believe that he’d cared for her & Atticus… at least Aggie knew that they had ). “I’m sure she knows that,” the young girl replies with a slight nod of her head. “If you’re searching this hard for her how could she not?”

                      Focusing on his troubles were far easier then reliving her own and yet his question set her awkwardly on her feet, gaze drifting to the floor. “No, I was… I got separated from them when I was younger. Had to live with my…. uncle.” Lie. All she seemed to do nowadays was lie and Aggie hated it. “When I was old enough I came here. I guess… it’s the same thing. I need to know… to know that they know I love them. And that I don’t blame them for what happened.” She let out a dry laugh through her nose, trying to lighten the mood — it’d gotten incredibly too real too fast. “This place is hard enough, right? Have to find the good in things, however small that feeling is.”

Malacai hadn’t gotten to meet his daughter –somewhat his, at least—and for all he knew, any girl by this description could be her. Even the girl who was talking to him right then, but she did get to meet her parents, she did get to be loved and held and it was impossible for her to be it. “I’m not so sure she does. We didn’t—I didn’t get to meet her.” Not him or his original, and the memory of what made that impossible only had the ghost of a headache ailing him.

“More or less.” She admitted with a sigh. Even though today was not a difficult day, given how there was no one in the hospital wing, yet, but the premonition of it, of the calm before the storm, unnerved her. Lyra flashed him a sympathetic smile, before she frowned. “it’s getting worse, isn’t it? All of our situations here. It’s like I can almost feel it.“

Task 01 | Worst Nightmare

Malacai feels his whole body tense up when the cold water first met his skin. It was a privilege to even have running water around these parts. Cosima would’ve turned the service off had she known where the rebels were located. She would’ve done anything to have people come begging at her feet for forgiveness. All she cared about was things running her way and hers only. Her own humanity had been lost through the centuries and there was proof of that in every scar on his body the water ran over.

But if things were always her way, how could he know if anything was real? Everyone kept telling him, he wasn’t Malacai… then who? Whose memories did he really have? His mind reeled with questions, ones that had no answer and only confused him further when his heart knew what his mind didn’t. He was Malacai. He was Elta’s husband and they had a baby together. A beautiful baby girl he never got to meet. What if he never got to meet her? It had already been twenty-two long years without him, surely, she’d been doing alright by now. He wouldn’t even know who she was if she stood right before him, could’ve passed by her already and missed every chance to meet her.

“WE were never anything, ‘cause YOU are not who you think you are,” he replied adamantly, shaking his head and trying to keep the bitter chuckle from choking him completely at the odd shaped emotion lodged in the back of his throat. Mal. The last person that he’d ever thought that he’d see again after all these years and what had been done to him, but Ivan wasn’t surprised that he’d come back to haunt his ass. It would take more than an old acquaintance to drag him to HELL where he belonged as the laugh slipped through his lips regardless of his emotions in that moment. “But hey, nice to see you in the flesh, so to speak. It’s a nice job they did in making you pretty damn perfect.”

Atticus was trying to process why someone was looking for Aggie. Someone other than them. Their mind kept coming up blank; the man wasn’t Ivan so it made them uneasy. They could be putting themselves into danger, possibly capture, but if it kept Aggie out of their grasp they would do anything. They had promised Aggie that they would never let her go back to that place. 

They didn’t budge when the door shut, didn’t even turn their head. They were silent, watching the other out of the corner of their eye. It wasn’t even the first question they answered, but the second. “I called you out here to ask why you’re looking for her. Your answer depends on which one I decide to give.” Atticus told him, eyes still focused in front of them. 

Malacai looked around them, at the empty streets, his eyes followed theirs to the vacant spot before meeting them. An eyebrow raised then, “Isn’t it kind of unfair to answer a question with another question.” His guard was up, a sudden sense of distrust raising his hackles. The soldier in him never did sleep and he knew his answer could end up with him back under Cosima’s care. And that was the last thing he wanted or needed.

                          SHE’S my daughter.

                          Aggie didn’t know what she had expected but it certainly wasn’t that. It’s seemed coincidental that he was searching for someone when she was, too. How many people in the city had lost someone close? How many were cursed to share the same uncertainty that she, and now this stranger, had? And yet. What were the odds of them meeting? “You’re…. not sure?” eyebrows furrow as he tries to explain, the tickle of something familiar faintly registering in the back of her mind.

                        “It’s okay, it’s okay,” she waved a hand at his apology, shaking her head. It was precious information he was sharing and why he had chosen to tell her was beyond her — but she wasn’t someone who’d use it against him. She hadn’t been raised in the city. While trust and compassion were dangerous things, Aggie did not shy away from them. “I’m searching for people too,” she admits, realizing he’d shared something and it was now her turn. “My mother and father. I don’t – like you I’m not even sure if they’re alive. Or even exists.” A small smile crosses her lips as a breath of air leaves her in an amused laugh. “Ironic, isn’t it? That out of everyone in the city we’ve ended up here talking.”

How could he explain the reason he wasn’t sure? Malacai was nothing more than a clone now, a cheap version of what his original had been. Though, sometimes, he allowed himself to think he was better, wiser. His eyes had been opened after spending a single night in that torture chamber, and his resolve to get revenge for his family only grew. He needed to make Cosima pay for what she’d done to them, for taking her away from his family and him.

A sigh left her lips then. “ Guess you would… But sorry, I don’t think can help you. ” Alex had seen not many but quite a few women that fit the man description in her time searching for her friend. But without a picture or a name, there was no way that she could tell him if she knew the person he was looking for. “ How do you expect to find someone you when you don’t even know their name? ” Her question was genuine. At the very least if they didn’t have a picture, they could know their name or vice versa but with neither, his search for whoever he was looking for would be even longer than it originally had to be. “ My friend – Jake Decker. He’s slightly taller than you, has sort of blond-ish hair and green eyes. ”

A superstitious man would have taken it as a sign of death stepping up to them, reminding them that they would lack the proper measures to escape hell even with immortality on their side. It wouldn’t last forever, forcing a bitter and humorless laugh out as Ivan shook his head. The voice a dead man, the look of a ghost on his face, and anyone would have been able to see that they weren’t meant to be both standing there in the same place once more. Ivan had made sure of that, a regretful choice or not, as it was meaningless anymore – what had been done, was done, and it secured his position in the world that he’d made for himself. One of anger and pain, inflicting it on others rather than letting it tear at his insides until they reflected that of the future for the civilian that he’d been speaking to moments before. “You look good, for a dead guy.”

That was putting it MILDLY.

Circuit Tattoo Parlor. How fitting of a place for Atticus to be. Their life was one big circuit. It followed the same patterns, the same routines. They were always on the run. Running from one place to the next hoping that they’d make it through another day, maybe find someplace safe to be. Atticus lost track of the time since they’d been kicked out of Ivan’s house. Days blurred together for them when they were too broke to even make it into the Callaghan refuges. They had come in here to get warm for a moment, listen to the things being said and seeing if they could hear anything about Aggie. 

Maybe it wasn’t the smartest idea for them to be in there. It wasn’t the smartest idea for them to be in the open. Cosima’s soldiers were around a lot more and if they wanted to keep from being caught they needed to stay out of sight. Atticus was good at surviving on their own they’d been doing it for decades now. The entire reason for the trip to the parlor was because Aggie was out here somewhere searching for something she needed to fill the gap. 

Their eyes followed the man as he walked to the counter, though they kept their face turned towards the wall. Atticus just needed to listen; it’s what she was good at. But his words sent a chill down their spine and they found their self standing up, and moving to his side rapidly, stopping only for a moment. “Your question. Come with me.” It was all they said before they headed out of the shop, the buzzing of the sign still ringing in her ears as the door closed and she stood by the edge of the building. 

If he chose to follow them main goal was to get information out of him. To find out who he was and what he knew. Maybe it was a coincidence, some other girl he was looking for, but that description…For a moment Aggie’s face flashed in front of their eyes and atticus couldn’t help but bite their lip hard to keep the worry at bay. They weren’t supposed to feel, but oh god did they when it came to her.

The person behind the counter shook his head, and Malacai was about to walk away before someone came up to him. He stared for a long moment as they walked away. Did they know who she was? Did they know who he was? Elta had told him a million times never to leave their hiding place. He couldn’t risk being found, not when that would only have him back in that damned torture chamber.

It was a risk, but maybe, this person could have information about his daughter. But after so long, he could only hope the girl was still alive somewhere, and most of all, fine. This world was far from perfect, but if anyone deserved a perfect life, that was his daughter. Only he was twenty-two years too late.

                           SHE’D been told that The Hive was dangerous. That it was a place where traitors and torturers lived — lawless and violent and no you need to stay away from it. Yet Aggie had known violence. She’d grown up in it, been subjugated to it and The Hive? It was nothing but a place. Something that quelled her curiosity and aided her in her search for her parents. She needed to search The Hive. She needed to fine them.

                          Yet she had to be cautious. Always cautious, always under the radar, always careful. Which was why she always seemed to find herself wandering into the tattoo parlor. The young girl couldn’t quite put her finger on the reasoning behind visiting the place frequently — maybe it was elegance of the art or the fact that she could easily hide there, felt like nothing but another person. Hand placed upon the counter, her eyes drifted to the recently healed tattoo on her right wrist. Breathe. A constant reminder whenever things grew to be too much. ( and they often did ).

                          The voice was unexpected ( when had he gotten there? ) and Aggie fought the urge to jump, a small prickle tingling at the corners of her eyes. “What?” the words fumbled from her mouth, buying her mind time to process the question. In a small moment the description sunk in and out of pure habit Aggie offered the man ( hooded face, dipped head, strange ) a small smile and shook her head. You don’t know anything, you never know anything, don’t give someone a reason to remember you. “M’sorry. She doesn’t ring a bell.” Then, a little more cautious — because what good reason does a man have with a young girl in The Hive? “Why’re you looking for her?”

Another negative. At this point he wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or coming to terms with the fact that he’ll never see her. The baby who had meant the world to him and he didn’t get to know her. That was his own fault. His own damn fault. If the original Malacai had never pulled the trigger, everything would be different. He wouldn’t exist, for once. But there was little he knew about what his original would do. With the thought of his wife and best friend betraying him, maybe it was better off this way.

Maybe.

“She’s my…” Malacai cut himself off. Daughter? He wasn’t even sure who he truly was, memories passed to him or not. There was a thin line where Malacai ended and M-021 began. A very thin line. But memories make you who you are, otherwise, how would he know about his daughter? “She’s my daughter, I think. We—I’m not sure if she is.” His description matched the girl standing before him, but he didn’t even know his own daughter’s name. And there were tons of girls who could match that description. After all, who knows what Cosima did to her?

Ever since waking up everything seemed to be out of order. The street lights were too blinding and the weather seemed to only grow colder by the second. It seemed as if the world had shifted - and she never learned about it. With a heavy sigh, Alexis wandered into the closest place - that was open to the public at the moment.

Upon entering she realized the place was a tattoo parlor - the first thing that looked seemed somehow familiar these last couple of weeks. Alexis went straight to the counter to ask the person in place the same question she’d asked many strangers the last couple of days - and that she had yet still find an answer for it. 

Unfortunately like many times before, the person behind the counter had no answer for her - not a right one at least. No we haven’t seen someone like that. Not many people come around these days anyways. So she decided it was better to just turn and leave. Because by staying she would be doing nothing than waste her own time.

It was on her way out that she noticed and heard the man that had since her arrival gotten there. Alexis just kept on walking past him just before stopping in front of the door and turned back towards the man. “Hey - you…  I- - I don’t recall meeting anyone with that description..” Alexis stared for a second before shaking her head lightly, about to walk away when the question fell from her lips. “Does she have a name? Anything else that could help you find her? A picture, maybe?” 

A picture. Had he managed to get his hands on one, finding her would be easier. But all he had to go by was a description that he wasn’t even sure was accurate. He never saw his child, the gunshot taking his life efficiently when he knew exactly what he was doing then. Betrayal from all those he trusted could only do so much to a man. At the time, he didn’t understand why Elta would choose the rebels. At the time, he hadn’t been tortured endlessly just to prove a point. At the time, he thought Cosima was truly watching out for everyone. He was wrong.

Everyone he asked only shook heads. Negative answers everywhere he went. Maybe they weren’t true, he couldn’t exactly tell with how covered up he was. If it was him, he wouldn’t want to give any information either. His lips parted in a sigh, as he turned to face the person that had spoken up.

A hooded figure walked through the deserted streets of The Hive. A few other people took to the corners of the place; some in tents, keeping themselves warm from the seldom breeze that caressed their cheeks. It was enough to be considered cold at times; enough to be considered warm. The place was warmer than Cosima’s torture chamber. It’d been six months since he left that place, but the memory of what was hidden behind those walls was very clear, just like the scars that now covered his body.

He wasn’t supposed to be outside though. If anyone caught sight of him; the escaped clone; M-021, Malacai Barlow, the one everyone had celebrated to be dead. Sometimes he wished he would have stayed dead. A part of him knew he wasn’t him, he wasn’t the one that pulled the trigger; yet it felt entirely different when every memory of the man that everyone hated was his to keep. Where did Malacai stop and M-021 begin?

There wasn’t time to answer the question, when the ring of a bell brought him back to reality as he entered the tattoo parlor. The buzzing of the open sign took over the place as everyone stopped to look at the hooded man that just entered. For a second, he thought they might’ve recognized him, but they all went back to their tasks at hand while he made his way over to the person standing by the counter.